The Children of the New Forest by Frederick Marryat (well read books .TXT) 📕

“Now, Humphrey, as you have pretty well heard all my adventures since our separation, let me hear what you have been doing.”

“I have no such tales of stirring interest to narrate as Chaloner has been doing as your deputy, Edward,” replied Humphrey. “All I can say is, that we have had no visitors—that we have longed for your return —and that we have not been idle since you quitted us.”

“What horses were those in the stable,” said Ed ward, “that you turned out to make room for ours when we arrived?”

Humphrey laughed, and then informed Edward of the manner in which they had succeeded in capturing them.

“Well, you really deserve credit, Humphrey, and certainly were not born to be secluded in this forest.”

“I rather think that I have found that I was born for it,” replied Humphrey, “although, I must confess, that since you have quitted us, I have not felt so contented here as I did before. You have returned, and you have no idea what an alteration I see in you since you have mixed with the world, and have been a party in such stirring scenes.”

“Perhaps so, Humphrey,” replied Edward; “and yet do you know, that, although I so ardently wished to mix with the world, and to follow the wars, I am any thing but satisfied with what I have seen of it; and so far from feeling any inclination to return to it, I rather feel more inclined to remain here, and remain in quiet and in peace. I have been disappointed, that is the truth. There is a great difference between the world such as we fancy it when we are pining for it, and the world when we actually are placed within the vortex, and perceive the secret springs of men’s actions. I have gained a lesson, but not a satisfactory one, Humphrey; it may be told in a very few words. It is a most deceitful and hollow world! and that is all said in a few words.”

“What very agreeable, pleasant young men are Master Chaloner and Grenville,” observed Humphrey.

“Chaloner I know well,” replied Edward; “he is to be trusted, and he is the only one in whom I have been able to place confidence, and therefore I was most fortunate in falling in with him as I did on my first starting. Grenville, I know little about; we met often, it is true, but it was in the presence of the king, being both of us on his staff; at the same time, I must acknowledge that I know nothing against him; and this I do know, which is, that he is brave.”

Edward then narrated what had passed between the intendant and him since his return; and how well satisfied the intendant had been with his ruse in returning to him in the dress of a trooper.

“Talking about that, Edward, do you not think it likely that we shall have the troopers down here in search of the king?”

“I wonder you have not had them already,” replied Edward.

“And what shall we do if they arrive?”

“That is all prepared for,” replied Edward; “although, till you mentioned it, I had quite forgotten it. The intendant was talking with me on the subject last night, and here is an appointment for you as verderer, signed by him, which you are to use as you may find necessary; and here is another missive, ordering you to receive into your house two of the troopers who may be sent down here, and find them quarters and victuals, but not to be compelled to receive more. Until the search is over, Chaloner and Grenville must retain their accouterments and remain with us. And, Humphrey, if you have not made any use of the clothes which I left here—I mean the first dress I had made when I was appointed secretary, and which I thought rather too faded to wear any longer—I will put it on now, as should any military come here as scouters to the intendant, I shall have some authority over them.”

“It is in your chest, where you left it, Edward. The girls did propose to make two josephs out of it for winter wear, but they never have thought of it since, or have not had time. By-the-by, you have not told me what you think of Alice and Edith after your long absence.”

“I think they are both very much grown and very much improved,” replied Edward; “but I must confess to you that I think it is high time that they were, if possible, removed from their present homely occupations, and instructed as young ladies should be.”

“But how, Edward, is that to be?”

“That I can not yet tell, and it grieves me that I can not; but still I see the necessity of it, if ever we are to return to our position in society.”

“And are we ever to return?”

“I don’t know. I thought little of it before I went away and mixed in society; but since I have been in the world, I have been compelled to feel that my dear sisters are not in their sphere, and I have resolved upon trying if I can not find a more suitable position for them. Had we been successful I should have had no difficulty, but now I hardly know what to do.”

“I have not inquired about Mistress Patience, brother; how is she?”

“She is as good and as handsome as ever, and very much grown; indeed, she is becoming quite womanly.”

“And Clara?”

“Oh, I do not perceive any difference in her: I think she is grown, but I hardly observed her. Here comes Chaloner; we will tell him of our arrangements in case we are disturbed by the military parties.”

“It is a most excellent arrangement,” said Chaloner, when Edward had made the communication; “and it was a lucky day when I first fell in with you, Beverley.”

“Not Beverley, I pray you; that name is to be forgotten; it was only revived for the occasion.”

“Very true; then, Master Secretary Armitage, I think the arrangement excellent: the only point will be to find out what troops are sent down in this direction, as we must of course belong to some other regiment, and have been pursued from the field of battle. I should think that Lambert’s squadrons will not be this way.”

“We will soon ascertain that; let your horses be saddled and accoutered, so that should any of them make their appearance, the horses may be at the door. It is my opinion that they will be here some time to-day.”

“I fear that it will be almost impossible for the king to escape,” observed Chaloner. “I hardly know what to think of his leaving us in that way.”

“I have reflected upon it,” replied Edward, “and I think it was perhaps prudent: some were to be trusted and some not; it was impossible to know who were and who were not—he therefore trusted nobody. Besides, his chance of escape, if quite alone, is greater than if in company.”

“And yet I feel a little mortified that he did not trust me,” continued Edward; “my life was at his service.”

“He could no more read your heart, than he could mine or others,” observed Chaloner; “and any selection would have been invidious: on the whole, I think he acted wisely, and I trust that it will prove so. One thing is certain, which is, that all is over now, and that for a long while we may let our swords rest in their scabbards. Indeed, I am sickened with it, after what I have seen, and would gladly live here with you, and help to till the land, away from the world and all its vexations. What say you, Edward; will you and your brother take me as a laborer till all is quiet again?”

“You would soon tire of it, Chaloner; you were made for active exertion and bustling in the world.”

“Nevertheless, I think, under two such amiable and pretty mistresses, I could stay well contented here; it is almost Arcadian. But still it is selfish for me to talk in this way; indeed, my feelings are contrary to my words.”

“How do you mean, Chaloner?”

“To be candid with you, Edward, I was thinking what a pity it is that two such sweet girls as your sisters should be employed here in domestic drudgery, and remain in such an uncultivated state—if I may be pardoned for speaking so freely—but I do so because I am convinced that, if in proper hands, they would grace a court; and you must feel that I am right.”

“Do you not think that the same feelings have passed in my mind, Chaloner? Indeed, Humphrey will tell you that we were speaking on the same subject but an hour ago. You must, however, be aware of the difficulty I am in: were I in possession of Arnwood and its domain, then indeed—but that is all over now, and I presume I shall shortly see my own property, whose woods are now in sight of me, made over to some Roundhead, for good services against the Cavaliers at Worcester.”

“Edward,” replied Chaloner, “I have this to say to you. and I can say it because you know that I am indebted to you for my life, and that is a debt that nothing can cancel: if at any time you determine upon removing your sisters from this, recollect my maiden aunts at Portlake. They can not be in better hands, and they can not be in the hands of any person who will more religiously do their duty toward them, and be pleased with the trust confided to them. They are rich, in spite of exactions; but in these times, women are not fined and plundered as men are; and they have been well able to afford all that has been taken from them, and all that they have voluntarily given to the assistance of our party. They are alone, and I really believe that nothing would make them more happy than to have the care of the two sisters of Edward Beverley—be sure of that. But I will be more sure of it if you will find means of sending to them a letter which I shall write to them. I tell you that you will do them a favor, and that if you do not accept the offer, you will sacrifice your sisters’ welfare to your own pride—which I do not think you would do.”

“Most certainly I will not do that,” replied Edward; “and I am fully sensible of your kind offer; but I can say no more until I hear what your good aunts may reply to your letter. You mistake me much, Chaloner, if you think that any sense of obligation would prevent me from seeing my sisters removed from a position so unworthy of them, but which circumstances have driven them to. That we are paupers, is undeniable, but I never shall forgot that my sisters are the daughters of Colonel Beverley.”

“I am delighted with your reply, Edward, and I fear not that of my good aunts. It will be a great happiness to me when I am wandering abroad to know that your sisters are under their roof, and are being educated as they ought to be.”

“What’s the matter, Pablo?” said Humphrey to the former, who came running, out of breath.

“Soldiers,” said Pablo, “plenty of them, gallop this way—gallop every way.”

“Now, Chaloner,